


A Winter Tale

by Lillian_Shepherd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Canon Compliant, Captain America: Civil War Trailer compliant, M/M, Mainly dialogue, Meta masquerading as fiction, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/Lillian_Shepherd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The superhero Civil War left the most of those heroes who refused to sign the Accords in the wind.  Now, several months later, the most important of those heroes is once again in contact. In Stark Tower, Tony is waiting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd currently because I can't really ask my beta to comment on or subscribe to my opinions as to character motivation and morality extrapolated from a -- probably misleading -- film trailer.
> 
> But I think a lot of current fanon is far too simple...

It was cold, even for December in New York. From the twenty-foot high windows in his penthouse above the city, it seemed to Tony Stark that the skyscrapers below had been transformed into quartzite pillars, sparkling like fairy lights in the rising sun. Fog lay over the rivers and the streets. A winter wonderland that would be gone within an hour. It was as if he was alone in a transformed world.

Tony's mouth twisted at the thought. Alone in all the ways that mattered, in any event.

He'd been waiting and wondering if that might change, at least for a short time, ever since the call from Natasha at midnight. 

He shouldn't feel this disappointed that it hadn't. After all, he knew that everyone left, sooner or later.

_Even if he had come, that's the way it would have ended._

It was not a consoling thought.

"Boss," Friday's voice said. "Captain Rogers has just entered the building through your private garage. May I remind you that you have not changed those entry codes."

Despite there being no one to see him – no one human, in any event – Tony raised an eyebrow but otherwise remained impassive, for all that his heart was thundering in his chest. Well, at least he didn't have to worry about the shrapnel any longer.

_Damn it to hell, I'm too old for this._

"He is asking if you are awake. And if he may speak with you."

"Invite him up," Tony said.

"Are you sure that's wise, Boss?" Friday asked.

_No. But I promised Natasha... Who am I kidding? He could be here to kill me and I'd still want to see him._

"Just do it, Friday," he said.

 

After what seemed like an age, Tony heard the soft sound of the elevator doors opening; Pepper had insisted that they make a noise and he couldn't be bothered to change that even though she had left the penthouse – and him – for good.

Steve's voice said, hesitantly, "Stark?" 

Tony plastered his best shit-eating media-ready smile on his face and swung round. "Hi, Cap. How's it going for you?" It took an enormous effort to keep that smile in place, because Steve, standing beside the open elevator doors as if he wanted to retreat back into them, looked like hell. Oh, someone who didn't know him might not have noticed, but he was pale with extra lines on his face that weren't laughter lines. He had lost weight – and how was that even possible? His eyes, still that glorious blue, had always seemed sad but were now, frankly, miserable. And a little unfocused. He was also, Tony noted, wearing a pair of thin cotton slacks, sneakers, and a faded blue roll-neck. He carried a stained trench coat over one arm.

_Steve hates the cold. None of those are going to keep it out._

"Not 'Cap', please. Not any more," Steve said, dully.

Tony fought down a rush of sympathy. "Ah, yes. The White House and the Pentagon would both object to 'Captain America'."

Steve winced, and the silence stretched to breaking point. "Is Jim Rhodes okay?" he asked at last. 

"He'll be fine, though it's taking a little time for him to get back in action. I've got a new suit waiting for him when he's ready."

If anything, Steve looked even more uncomfortable. "I didn't do that, I swear. Or order it."

"I know. But it should have warned you that Barnes was a walking time bomb. Have you found him yet, by the way?" If there was one thing calculated to push Steve's buttons, it was Barnes. And Tony had no sympathy at all for Barnes or for Steve's... obsession... with him.

Though Steve didn't have his shield with him, his arm moved defensively across his body, as if he was still holding it. "He doesn't want to be found. Not even by me. If he even remembers me now."

Tony pushed his advantage. "Hardly surprising, considering that he helped Zemo escape."

Steve bristled, the first sign of real animation that he had shown. "That wasn't Bucky, but the Winter Soldier. The brainwashing. And—" 

"And Zemo knew his trigger word. But isn't that something that you should have anticipated? Or at least considered before you took on the world? After all, you knew – better than anyone – that even if he wasn't completely the Winter Soldier any more, he wasn't wholly James Barnes either."

Steve's jaw was set, his expression one of familiar stubbornness. "I was sure Bucky was in control. I know him. He's my oldest friend. My best friend. He saved me countless times before... before Rebirth, and after. He said he'd be with me until the end of the line. I had to do the same for him."

It was a plea for understanding but, as always, it revealed the blind loyalty that provoked a surge of jealousy in Tony. And anger, the anger that never went away. "Sure," he said coldly. "Also, now Peggy Carter's dead, he's your only link to the past that you refuse let go of. Not to mention your guilt trip about the whole falling-off-a-train-and–down-mountain-then-brainwashed thing. Add survivors' guilt on top of that—" 

Steve jerked forward until he was less than a foot away. He was even paler now, and his hands were clenched into fists. "You aren't an alienist, Stark. You know nothing about me."

So Steve was mad enough to forget what century he was in. Good. "Don't I? Tell me I'm wrong, Rogers. Tell me Wilson hasn't said much the same thing?" He waited, balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to duck if Steve tried to hit him.

As if he was fast enough to avoid a blow from Captain America.

Instead, Steve broke eye contact. Turned away. "I haven't seen Sam since... since the showdown with Zemo," he admitted.

_Now that's worrying. Wilson hero-worshiped Steve – is it that he found his hero had feet of clay? Or that he didn't matter compared to Barnes? If so, I know exactly how he feels..._

"Pity. I'd expected him to be waiting on the roof." Even as he spoke, Tony knew he was pushing too hard, that Steve was either going to floor him or walk out, but he couldn't stop himself. 

Steve took another step towards him; Tony forced himself to stand his ground, waiting for that decision.

"What do you want me to say, Stark? Sorry? Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was wrong about Bucky, though I'm damn well not sorry that he's still alive. I'm sorry I messed up your plans to cripple the Avengers—" 

"You messed up my plans to keep the Avengers operational and able to meet the alien invasion that's almost certainly coming," Tony interrupted. "This business with Hydra, even with Barnes, is a distraction."

 _"Distraction?_ " 

"Yes. From our real job. The Avengers were created as a response team to an alien threat."

"As government lackeys." Steve's voice dripped bitterness. "Which is what you made us again."

"Under UN supervision. Under International and US law. Under a series of checks and balances, just like in the good old US constitution. You think Stark Industries can do what it likes? That there isn't government oversight of all our operations? That Pepper and I can just flout the law? I'm used to operating within those restrictions, though I may bend them at times. Tell me, what makes you different from us and from every other citizen, from each elected and appointed official in this country?" 

"I'm not," Steve protested, but he had flinched at the accusation and Tony knew it had hit home. It gave him hope.

"Then quit acting as if you are," he snapped back. "Stop believing that you are always right. Trust me, Rogers, I've been there, done that, printed the T-shirt. But it didn't last. If nothing else, I had Pepper and Rhodey – and you – to remind me I was just a rich genius jerk. But your legend, as the embodiment of the American Dream – God help me, we all believed in that. I did, Wilson certainly did, even Ant-Man – who I understand has been grounded so hard by Henry Pym that he's in concrete up to his balls – and everyone else who fought on your side _because you were Captain America_ did." 

"You had your own followers," Steve pointed out.

Tony gave a bark of laughter. "Have you met Black Panther, or Nat, or Vision? They don't follow anything but their own consciences. But your people weren't fighting for something they believed in, but for _you_. And in doing so you pitched Barton against Widow and Wanda against Vision. You may not consider me your friend, but they—" He broke off because that wound was still too raw. "Even if you'd won, what do you think would have happened? Do you really believe the US government – the UN, the Security Council, the EU, the Chinese, the Russians, Wakanda – would have just thrown up their hands and torn up the Accords, let you and Barnes run free, even let the Avengers go on existing? You're not that fucking stupid!" 

"They were going to kill Bucky!" Steve shouted.

Tony treated him to a look of pure disgust. "Only because you couldn't persuade him to come in. Or did you even try?" 

"The Winter Soldier had killed too many high profile people. Everyone wanted revenge. Including you. After all, he killed your parents," Steve retorted, and the confirmation of that – of what Natasha had told him – ripped into Tony, fuelling his anger.

"Well, that doesn't seem to matter to you," he retorted, "though my Dad was your friend. Supposedly. And you're damn lucky Director Carter never suspected that Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD because at that point they would have sent him to take her down, the way they sent him to take you down. For that matter, the Winter Soldier came close to killing Fury, Natasha and you."

"That wasn't really Bucky! It was Hydra. He told me, he doesn't do that any—" 

"Any longer? Any more?"

Steve's flinch was enough to confirm Tony's guess, but his head lifted defiantly. "Does it matter?" he said. "You knew he wasn't really responsible but you tried to kill him anyway."

"I could have killed him any time if I'd wanted to," Tony pointed out, his voice cold enough to freeze Steve in the ice again. "You saw Iron Man take down Chitauri Leviathans, Rogers. If I'd deployed missiles or the Jericho weapon, every single one of you, with the possible exception of Wanda, would have been dead. But I don't kill friends. And what Barnes needed was – is – help, both legal and psychiatric. We needed to know the brainwashing had totally worn off. Which it hadn't. Hydra wins because _you_ went rogue."

"Do you think I don't realise that?" Steve's voice broke on the last word.

It took all Tony's willpower to remain unrelenting in the face of that crack in Steve's quintessential stubbornness. "I've spoken to Barton," he said. "You refused to see that, refused to recognise it as a possibility, which is why Zemo is still at large, possibly with the Winter Soldier at his side."

"I'm going..." Steve turned away, his shoulders slumping, his voice unexpectedly bitter. "I should have known you wouldn't understand."

Tony moved fast, finding it surprisingly easy to block Steve's path to the elevator and stop him by grasping his arms. Steve's eyes were wide, deer-in-the- headlights wide, and far, far too bright and he was, fuck it, shaking – or shivering? – in Tony's grip. "Oh, no, you don't run away again. At least, not unless you tell me why you came here in the first place."

Steve was breathing hard, seemingly unable to gather enough words to answer. Finally, it came. "I couldn't call Sharon – she'd told me she'd have to arrest me. Sam... vanished. I thought Nat might... I called her. She said she couldn't help. That she had no power to help, that she couldn't take the risk. She told me to come to you."

That much Tony already knew, and was well aware that it was only a small part of the truth. All the same, he nodded. "Being an Avenger – a legitimate Avenger – means a great deal to Natasha. And she's a pragmatist. But she cares for you. She called me. I was expecting you. I still have enough credit with the powers that be to help you: but first you gotta let go of the past or there's no one on Earth who can."

Steve's eyes were unfocused. He shook his head violently. "None of you understand. I've been running on empty for so long. Like Bucky... but you... you're... I've tried. I know I've let you all down. I can't—" Tony could feel the shaking growing worse as he took more of Steve's weight. "Why... why would you want to help me...?" His eyes rolled upwards and he slumped into Tony's arms, bearing him to the floor.

Tony felt desperately for a pulse in his neck. It was there, strong, but far, far too slow. He gasped in relief, tightening his grip. "Don't you remember why?" he whispered into Steve's hair. "Because, Christ, I do."

 

************************* 

 

_He was so cold and so alone. His head swam with memories, of ice and fire, of pain and loss. And anger. So much anger. But there was a familiar voice, one that carried him into a different memory, one that held warmth and affection as well as anger..._

 

After all the angry words that had been exchanged – and boy, was he still mad at Tony for getting them into this – sharing a bed with him, however necessary was, well, awkward.

He lay awake in the narrow bed, wondering what part Natasha had played in these arrangements. Though Clint was perfectly capable of deciding that his best friend should be offered the chance to seduce the man she was interested in... And that was a reminder that he ought to be just as mad at Bruce, except he was damn sure that Tony was the driving force behind Ultron.

Or was it just that he was too much of a coward to provoke a Code Green? 

_You can never go home._

Anyhow, Thor had taken off on a personal quest; Bruce and Natasha were sharing a room which left him and Tony with the room one of the kids had vacated.

Yeah. Logical.

Like he believed a word of it. This was pure Barton revenge, probably on Tony, with himself as collateral damage.

At his back, Tony was shifting uncomfortably, plainly unable to decide whether to sleep facing Steve or with his back to him. He understood that, because he had the same problem.

Exaggerated by unwanted attraction. 

He was fascinated by Tony, awed by his brilliance and courage and horrified by his reckless arrogance at the same time. Everything he had been told about him before they met had suggested he embodied all that he hated about the twenty-first century, and that seemed to be confirmed in Stuttgart and on the helicarrier. When they had started working together away from Loki's influence, fighting at each other's side, they had been instinctively in tune, a disturbingly perfect partnership.

He had rejected it, joined SHIELD, gone to Washington where he was closer to Peggy, found a different partnership with Natasha (though whenever Clint was present he felt like a third wheel), met Sam who was a good friend and not part of the Avengers.

"Your sidekick," Tony had called Sam, even as he had made him upgraded wings and weapons.

It was a disturbing word, one it was difficult to reject because Sam seemed content to follow in his – in Captain America's – wake. Unlike Tony – and Thor, Bruce, Natasha and Clint, come to that.

He wanted a partnership with Sam, but the other man seemed content to follow him without asking too many questions. Unlike Tony... and Thor, Bruce, Natasha and Clint, come to that? 

With Sam, it had been more like being back with the Howlers than with the Avengers where, even though Tony called him the boss, everyone was more than likely to do their own thing rather than follow his orders, even in the field...

That was occasionally uncomfortable, but often effective, particularly if he framed his strategy to allow them leeway to employ their own tactics.

Right now Sam was out looking for Bucky, proving his loyalty. When they found Buck – if they were still alive to find him, which was in doubt with Ultron on the loose – he would have the basis for a new group, one that came with much more comfortable – acceptable – feelings...

He rolled over, and his hand fell on Tony's hip. Instantly, Tony also shifted, and Steve's hand slid down – accidentally, of course accidentally – onto Tony's ass. Which felt wonderful. As did the thrill centring on his groin.

Then Tony was moving, not away but towards him, so their bodies were pressed together and...

_Oh._

One hand slid up to cup his face – and Steve didn't move, didn't want to move.

"You okay with this?" Tony whispered.

Unable to speak, Steve nodded against his hand.

Then Tony's mouth was on his, and everything changed.

 

Only it hadn't, not really.

He knew now that he was dreaming – a lucid dream they called it nowadays. He tried to steer it back to the certainties of that night at the Barton farm, but the memories of the subsequent reality came sneaking in.

Tony, contrary to all expectations, had been out of bed before him, a new coldness in his manner, all his prickles out, tongue razor-sharp and ready to cut Steve to ribbons.

They had never mentioned that night again. And the next time Tony had referred to the Barton farm, it was to say he was leaving the Avengers, was going to settle down with Pepper Potts.

Why hadn't that happened...? 

 

"Steve! Steve, can you hear me?" Tony's voice was urgent, shaking in fear. "Please wake up. What the hell is wrong with you?" 

He was on the floor of the penthouse in Avengers – no, once again Stark – Tower, cradled against Tony's chest, a gentle hand stroking his hair. And that hand... Tony's hand... was trembling? 

"Don't know," he muttered, turning his face into Tony's shoulder, savouring the warmth, the scent of metal, expensive cologne, soap and clean cotton that was safety.

_I shouldn't do this..._

"You're _cold_ ," Tony was saying. It sounded like an accusation. "And you passed out."

He could hardly deny it. "Been kinda lightheaded..." he admitted. "Serum was supposed to take care of all those things. Maybe it's wearing off."

"The serum," Tony said. "The serum. Shit, Steve, have you been getting enough food?" 

Of course he hadn't, not without stealing, which he wouldn't do, but he couldn't tell Tony that, let him think that was the reason he had come here. Because it wasn't. "Think so. Not hungry."

"When did you last eat?" Tony persisted.

"Don't remember. Some soup kitchen somewhere, I guess."

"Fuck." Tony made to get to his feet, but Steve hung onto him fiercely, because if he let him go he'd be cold, and alone. Again. He'd lost Peggy to old age and death, and Bucky to Hydra. Sharon, Sam, Clint and Natasha had deserted him. Those had been devastating enough, but to lose hope in Tony would somehow be worse. Not that he'd ever had any claim on Tony, just the cherished the dream of the perfect fighting partnership, more so even than with Bucky. And that one night.

Tony had other priorities. "Got to get you some food."

"Not hungry," Steve repeated. "Stay. Please."

Tony didn't struggle but instead said, earnestly, "Steve, listen to me. You know your metabolism's accelerated, that you need more calories per day than most people, right? And that if you can't get those calories your body compensates? But if that goes on long enough, the serum will start shutting down unnecessary functions, the way it did in the ice. Hunger may be one of those. You've got to let me go get you some food... chocolate and Powerbars to start with, then we'll weigh in with the proteins. Now, let go, huh? I'll be back, promise."

"Like you were after that night at the Barton farm?" Steve cursed himself for that, for how much it revealed about how abandoned he had felt.

Tony was suddenly still. "So, so, so you remember that, huh?" 

"And what happened after. You pushed me away. Treated me like one of your one night stands."

"You've never seen me with a one night stand," Tony said sharply. "Steve, what happened that night shocked me. Not because you're a man – I've had affairs with men, a couple of them serious. But I was in a long-term relationship with _Pepper_ and she was – still is, in some ways – the best thing that had ever happened to me. She... we... our relationship was already in trouble and you... I couldn't— I thought we'd sort of agreed to forget it. Silently." He took a deep breath and went on the offensive. "Anyway, within twenty four hours you were trying to beat the shit out of me."

"Because _you_ were trying to revive Ultron in an upgraded body."

"No I fucking well wasn't." Tony was plainly furious. "But you were so damn sure of yourself, didn't trust me or Bruce at all, just made a judgement without letting us explain what we were doing. JARVIS himself thought it 'worth a go' but no, Captain America knows best – even when he knows nothing. You still didn't accept we'd made the right call, not even after Thor countered Maximoff's play. Not after he told you that _we'd_ been played, that Ultron actually came from the Mind Stone. And we got the Vision. And without Vision, Ultron would still be in play, and none of us would be. _All of us would be dead, including your friend Bucky, or what's left of him._ Of everything I had anything to do with creating, Vision's the most important."

"Which is why he fought on your side," Steve said.

"He fought on my side for the same reason Natasha did – because they knew that, however disagreeable it might be, the Accords were the only way the Avengers could survive. I was right. _Vision_ , who is more than human, opted for human oversight. And he is worthy to lift Thor's hammer, unlike either of us."

Steve remembered the hammer moving fractionally in his hand, then the doubts settling into his mind as it remained firmly on the table. He also remembered Thor's grin as he said, "Well done," to Tony. He hated that Thor could do that so easily, accepting the horrible risk Tony and Bruce had taken simply because it had worked.

"Thor had information I didn't," he said, defensively.

_After all, he's a god. Sort of._

"Yeah, and that made him change his mind. Same information didn't shift your opinion, did it? Stubborn bastard."

"So you got a good look at my 'dark side'," Steve muttered. "Shame you didn't take any notice."

"Sure, back down because you could beat the shit out of me. For someone who hates bullies, Steve, you get close to the line of becoming one sometimes. I'm intimately acquainted with your 'dark side'. Now let me go. Promise I'll be back." Unexpectedly, Tony kissed the top of his head, startling Steve into letting him break free.

Seconds later, he was alone and cold again, huddling on himself, trying to ignore all the things Tony had said and failing, as he had failed so many times to justify his actions to himself over the last few months.

 

********************************* 

 

After a raid on a particular cupboard in the kitchen, a search of the closets that Tony usually left entirely to the cleaning staff produced a thick quilt – possibly an antique – which he carried back into the living room and tossed over Steve's shoulders, then slid down to the floor beside him.

"Eat," he ordered firmly, shoving a partly unwrapped chocolate bar into Steve's hands.

"Still not hungry," Steve said, with a shake of his head, but he moved closer to Tony, who put an arm around his waist in surreptitious support.

"I don't care. Eat or I'll feed it to you piece by piece. Hold your nose too if I have to," he added, remembering threats from his father's butler, the original Jarvis, when he was small. To his relief, this drew a chuckle from Steve.

"Yes, Mom," he said, and nibbled tentatively at the chocolate. Moments later he was wolfing down everything Tony offered, taking huge bites and barely chewing before he swallowed 

Tony began to worry that he might choke, rather than pass out again.

He also began to realise that he might have softened towards Steve too soon. But seeing him so weak and... defeated... had hurt far more than he had anticipated. He had spent the night planning how he should react to Steve... what he should say.

At least most of that had, in fact, been said.

But had Steve actually been listening? 

When Steve had finished the chocolate and PowerBars, and drunk a large carton of juice, he began carefully folding and stacking the wrapping papers. That task completed, he took a breath, set his jaw, and looked up at Tony from under insufferably long lashes, "Thank you."

"You can have a proper meal later. But meanwhile," Tony said, wrinkling his nose and steadfastly ignoring the effect that look was having on his stomach – not to mention his groin, "I think you'd better take a shower. That is, if you can get up and hobble into the bathroom without falling over, Old Man." He rose to his feet and held out his hand. "Or shall I call the suit and carry you?" 

Steve hesitated and, for a moment, Tony was sure he had totally blown it, but the idea of being warm and clean as well as fed was plainly irresistible. Steve took Tony's hand and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet, and then up a short flight of steps.

The door opened in front of them.

They were hardly through it when Steve braked. "This is your bedroom."

"Yeah. I'm not going to open up your floor, even if you could make it down there. The furniture is covered in dustsheets, and you left nothing of your own when you moved upstate. It's not fit for habitation. Now, do you think you can shower without falling down and hitting your head? Yes? Good. Friday, keep an eye on him and make sure he stays awake."

"Yes, Boss."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Tony..."

"Bathroom's through there." Tony gave him a gentle shove in the right direction and Steve went meekly enough, if a little unsteadily.

Once the door was closed behind him, Tony theatrically wiped imaginary perspiration from his brow. "So far, so good," he said. "Friday, seal all exits from the penthouse and inform me if he looks like making a break for it. We still have things to discuss."

"Will do, Boss, but the conversation seems kinda heavy. Do you need backup?" 

"No." _At least, I hope not._

"Ms Romanoff has called you twice. And Ms Potts three times."

"Tell them both that I've got everything under control," Tony told her.

_I hope._

 

Tony slipped into the bathroom, picked up Steve's clothes and left just as quietly. As far as he was concerned, they were only fit for incineration.

That Steve, who had grown up in abject poverty, had been reduced to it again was almost more than he could bear. Even if they could not come to terms today – and he was going to use every weapon he had to make that happen and it looked as if Steve might be vulnerable to sex, if nothing else – he was going to haul him out of that pit.

"Boss," Friday said. "I think you better go take a look at Captain Rogers."

Tony dropped the clothes and raced for the bathroom.

 

The first thing he noticed was that the shower was still running but he couldn't see Steve through the glass wall of the cubicle. Skidding to a halt, he peered round it.

Steve was sitting on the floor under the shower head, his arms wrapped around his knees, water streaming from his bent head and down his shoulders. 

Tony reached in and switched off the shower. "Steve? What's wrong?" 

Steve looked up at him with dejection in his eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me?" 

He'd expected that question, and rehearsed a dozen answers to it, but faced with those wide blue eyes, he forgot them all, and resorted to honesty. "You were – sorta – my childhood hero, then my teammate, my friend and, for one night, my lover. Am I supposed forget all I felt because you're a stubborn bastard who can't compromise and who makes lousy decisions?" 

"But you were so angry with me."

Tony sighed. "Yes, I was. I guess I am. Have been. You need – needed – to face some uncomfortable facts, Steve. I'm still not sure you have." 

Steve shook his head, sending water flying into Tony's face. He ignored it.

"Never mind that now," he said, reaching for a towel and pushing it into Steve's hands. "Dry yourself off. I'll go check what food we have."

 

Tony had just finished disposing of Steve's clothes when the man in question padded into the living area, clad only in a towel.

The sight stopped Tony in his tracks, robbed him of breath.

"Where are my clothes?" Steve asked plaintively.

"Gone," Tony said, spreading his hands. "Vanished. I offered them to a thrift shop and they were insulted."

"Stark..."

"Maybe I just like you naked."

_Whoops! That might be a truth too far._

Steve's expression didn't change, but he began to redden and there was a significant bulge in the towel. 

Tony continued hurriedly. "I can find you some unused boxers and a clean shirt if you really need something to sleep in."

Steve was frowning. "Sleep here? In your bed?" 

"It's a helluva comfortable bed. And you don't have to share it. I'm not gonna push. You can have the floor or one of the sofas if you really want to rough it. It's your choice. Really. What do you want to do?" 

Steve's slow smile, which Tony had never expected to see again, lit his face. "You mean apart from go to bed with you? 

Tony found himself smiling back. "Well, that'll do for a start," he said.

 

Friday had darkened the windows, cutting out the dull winter daylight. The long staple cotton sheets were cool to bare skin – and Steve's skin felt as cold, unlike the last time when they had shared a bed. Then he had been better than an electric blanket in the unheated farm bedroom. 

Tony laid his hand against Steve's cheek and said, as he had then: "Are you okay with this?" 

This time, Steve didn't just nod. He turned his head and kissed Tony's hand. "Yes," he said. "Always."

 

When Tony woke, he found himself held tightly in Steve's grip, one arm flung over his chest, a leg pinning his thighs to the mattress. 

_We didn't go to sleep like this,_ was his first thought. Then, _But it feels good._

Steve was warmer now, breathing normally, his eyelids fluttering in REM sleep. He was also hard and, to his own astonishment, Tony found his own body responding. That didn't seem possible, after the intensity of their earlier, wildly passionate, sex.

He wondered what Steve was dreaming about: Peggy Carter, probably. He didn't want to believe that it might be Barnes or Wilson, didn't dare think it might be himself.

Then Steve's eyes opened. "God, Tony. You're here. You're real," he whispered.

"Yeah. Real, ready and willing."

"You would be," Steve said, with a grin, and rolled on top of him, pinning him with hands and mouth and the weight – though not the full weight -- of his body. "Let me," he whispered. "Let me do this for you."

 _As if I could stop you,_ was Tony's last coherent thought.

 

This time, spent and replete, they remained in each other's arms, Steve's head resting on Tony's shoulder.

"Are you still angry with me?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," Tony said. But it wasn't true.

Steve hid his face in the curve of Tony's neck. "What we did... making love, didn't feel angry."

The choice of words alone was telling.

"Angry sex can be good," Tony said, trying to make light of it. _And we'll almost certainly find that out, if this relationship survives the next half hour._ "But it's not what I wanted. Or what you needed."

"You've given me exactly what I needed," Steve said. "That... that we can do this without fear of arrest almost makes this century worthwhile."

"Almost," Tony repeated. "You really hate it here, don't you?" 

"Some of it," Steve said. "I mean, that people have been to the Moon, is like stepping into a science fiction story. And that Germany and Japan are now peaceful democracies, that's great. The internet is fantastic..."

"But."

"Seventy years plus, Tony. Seventy years and there are still soup kitchens, in America. In New York. And there's still injustice and prejudice and nuclear weapons and terrorists and dictators – both of which our government has created and supported. Not to mention the interests destroying the planet for profit."

"That's the American way," Tony said.

Steve reached up to turn Tony's face towards him. "I know you and people like you are trying to correct that but... seventy years, Tony."

"Yeah. It's bad," Tony admitted. He kissed Steve's cheek, in what he hoped was a gesture of comfort. "But you can't change human nature or social structures easily. Even though power never attracts moral people, we've made progress."

"Too little. Dang it, this is so hard to explain, particularly to you. You're so much a man of your time. The large changes are much easier to cope with than the bad things that have stayed the same. Then when you think something's the same and it isn't... that's horrible. I hated Stark Tower when I first saw it—" 

"'That big ugly building in New York'," Tony quoted, with a chuckle. "You do know that most New Yorkers think it's an improvement on the original."

"I think I hated it just because it had changed."

"Understandably. SHIELD manipulated and misused you, thrust you into a role you only thought you understood. No wonder you eventually went off the rails."

"Not really. Fury treated me as a soldier and it's the only thing I know how to be."

"I have news for you, Steve," Tony said with as much gentleness as he could muster. "You're not a soldier and you were never suited to the job. Hush!" He put his fingers over Steve's mouth. "I've been in contact with the military most of my life and you fall at the first hurdle; the ability to follow orders, even when you disagree with them. You're a great leader, a strategist and tactician, but you don't know when to retreat."

"Neither do you," Steve retorted.

"I never claimed to be a soldier. Right from the beginning, I told you we weren't. And you make an awful spy, too, by the way. You give Natasha hives."

Steve's laughter was bitter. "Thanks a lot. But of course you're still angry. I hurt you. You're tougher than I am – not Iron Man, you – I never thought I could hurt you. Or that you cared whether I tried."

"Oh, I cared," Tony said. "I still care, despite it all." He petted Steve's hair for a while, gathering his courage. "What did the Witch show you, Steve?" he asked at last. Then, when the other man remained silent. "She showed me all of you, dead and defeated – and your dying words were blaming me for not doing enough to save you, to save the world. I think that's why I seized the opportunity, that night at Barton's farm – because I might never have another chance at getting close to you. Natasha still won't tell me what Wanda showed her, though she might tell you or Bruce... Bruce. We know what happened when she got to Bruce. And Thor, that something was wrong in Asgard. And as we haven't seen him since he went back, I guess that's was true. So, Steve..."

Steve mumbled something in which the words, "Peggy", "date" and "home," were the only ones intelligible.

"I can't do anything about Peggy. Dates, yeah, maybe. That's up to you. But I can give you a home, Steve. I always intended to."

There was a long silence, and Tony's heart sank with every second it was extended. Finally, Steve pushed himself up on his elbows to meet Tony's eyes. "I'm sorry. I want to— I want that so much, but I can't. I have to find Bucky—" 

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" Tony snarled, trying for real anger but only managing to fake it through his misery. "You're the last person who should go after Barnes. You must know that. You look at the Winter Soldier, see only Barnes, and your tactics are to let him beat you to a pulp – at the danger of letting hundreds of people die. It nearly got you killed the first time, damn it, and nearly got me killed the last time – both times. Oh, and just so you know, I'm the wrong person too, because of Mom and Dad and Rhodey and, god help me, you. And if you do you'll have the whole of the world's law enforcement on your tail. Again."

"But not you."

"Don't bet on that." Tony's voice was grim.

"There isn't anyone else," Steve insisted, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. "No one else cares about Bucky."

"You're wrong," Tony said, with certainty. "Vision is already on the case. On Hydra's case too, as it happens. He's liaising with Fury and Sharon Carter, and Natasha and Wanda are working with him. They may not care about Barnes personally but they know how much he means to you, Steve, and they'll do everything they can to break him loose and save him. Promise me you won't interfere."

Steve closed his eyes and shook his head.

So did Tony. "Okay, okay," he said, unable to keep defeat out of his voice. "I can't stop you leaving, but at least wait until you're stronger, and give me time to set up a trail of accounts that you can access but can't be traced back to me, so you'll have money for clothes and food and transport at least."

"No! I won't accept charity. Not from you."

"But you'll accept it from soup kitchens, apparently. Steve, I will not let you starve yourself to death. Please, please stay for a while. And at least talk to Vision, even if you won't listen to me." 

"I can't stay here," Steve said. "I will not place you in danger, Tony. This place is vulnerable. Both Loki and Ultron targeted it."

"Agreed. Which is why it's no longer any sort of HQ or even my home."

"What?" Steve sounded baffled.

 _I'm only here because of the remote chance that you'd come looking for me here,_ was Tony's thought. What he said was, "The farm I bought for Pepper, which she rejected even before she rejected me."

"I could have told you that would happen."

Was that relief in Steve's voice? 

"Yeah, she's a big city girl and she's more devoted to Stark Industries than she ever was to me. She's in love with business and power broking, and she may end up as, I don't know, Chair of the Fed or the IMF or the WTO. Anyway, the farm is now a research facility for me, and Bruce, when he comes back, and Jane Foster and Erik Selvig, when they're not in the field. There will be others, as well as Enhanced needing sanctuary and training. You could help us with that. That alien invasion that's coming will be worse than the Chitauri, worse than Ultron and Loki. That was Thor's message. And I wish the hell he'd come back because we're gonna need him. Just as we need you."

"No you don't," Steve said. "You need Captain America. And I can't be him anymore. I won't sign the Accords, Tony. I can't, and if you have to wait on the UN to approve your strategy, you're going to lose." 

"Fuck it, Steve, how can you have known me this long and not know me at all?" The anger was surging through Tony again. He fought to control it and lost. "When the alien ships are falling from the skies, do you really believe that I, and those who stand with me, won't fight against them, with or without government approval, even if it costs us our lives?" 

"You'd break your word." Steve was plainly incredulous, and that somehow warmed Tony, even though he knew the other man was wrong.

"Of course," he answered. "If it's necessary. That's why you're the moral centre of the Avengers, rather than me. But you don't need to compromise yourself. You aren't Captain America any longer. You don't need to sign the Accords." 

"I'm still Enhanced," Steve pointed out. "And I protected a fugitive, a murderer and assassin, a Hydra agent. Resisted arrest. Defied international law. Probably committed treason. They'll put me in jail and throw away the key. And then do the same to you for harbouring a known criminal. They can do what they like to me, but I'm not going to let that happen to you."

"They won't take the risk. Not if they figure you're out of the game – and I can arrange that. They don't have the evidence to convict Steve Rogers of major charges. With your record, it would be political suicide. And no one knows what really happened at the end outside those actually present. They won't call Vision to court to testify against you because he isn't human, or Natasha because they remember all too well last time they tried it. Or Wanda because they're terrified that she can manipulate their minds. That leaves me. I'm not going to testify against you."

"They can subpoena you. And don't tell you'd lie under oath in court because I know better."

"I wish I had that much faith in my probity," Tony said wryly. "But... but... if you believe that..."

_You won't believe me if I deny it, either. Oh, wait, wait, wait._

"I believe," Tony said steadily, "that there is one thing we can do to guarantee that they can't get me to testify against you on a Federal charge, at least not without my lawyers fighting all the way to the Supreme Court."

Watching Steve closely, he saw him frown in puzzlement, then his eyes widened as he understood. "You'd do that?" 

Tony grinned. "Well, it may be my only chance to coerce someone into doing something this stupid, considering my track record. Seriously, it can just be a legal fiction, if that's what you want. We can end it easily enough, after a year or so, when you've redeemed yourself in government eyes. I won't stand in your way."

Steve blinked rapidly, and then turned his head so Tony could not see his face. After a minute or so he turned back, and there were tears on his cheeks. He leaned down and brushed his lips across Tony's. "So," he said. "Call Vision. He and I need to talk. Right now, tell me about this farm." 

 

The wedding took place twenty-four hours after Steve had been pardoned conditionally when Tony stood surety for him. Steve was sure Tony and Pepper – and possibly Fury – had applied pressure in Washington that might cost them dear. It was conducted by the mayor of New York, who was not only an old friend of Tony's but owed him favours which, until now, Tony had avoided collecting. The only other people present, apart from the prospective husbands, were the Vision, Natasha Romanoff and Virginia Potts. Both grooms wore blue suits, red ties and white shirts. The flowers were red and gold. Tony had made the rings himself, but the vows had been written together.

Outside, snow had started to fall, the gyrating flakes forming a white curtain. Afterwards, the two men stood together looking out into to see the lights of the skyscrapers winking in and out behind the snowflakes, and the white lights of the tree behind them reflected in the glass as bright as stars.

It was, after all, the start of a new year.

Time for new beginnings.

"You can forget about the legal fiction," Steve said. "You're stuck with me now."

"I sorta got that when you suddenly added that bit in about 'forsaking all others' into your vows," Tony said, but he sounded absurdly happy.

Steve looked at him with amused affection. "I know you love me, Tony. It was the only reason I agreed to this; that after all the things I've said to you, I've done to you, you still took me in, cared for me, took me to bed..."

"Ah, yes. Bed. There's a great idea. I'll drink to that."

"It's not just about sex." Steve said firmly. He stood twisting his wedding ring on its finger, and then raised his eyes to meet his brand new husband's. "I love you."

Tony said, "I know."

"I got that reference," Steve said, and kissed him as the snow whirled in the air beyond the glass, blocking out the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I have found this fic very difficult to write, but it insisted on being written. I do not know what the Russo Brothers or Kevin Feige are going to do with _Captain America: Civil War_ , but I have seen the trailer and I have had a long hard look at _Age of Ultron_ , and this story is compliant (save for the Steve and Tony having sex at Barton's bit) with both. (Though the timeline of the episode at Barton's house is odd to say the least.) It is also, unlike a lot of meta and current fic, compliant with comments made by the creators, including the one (from the Russos) about Bucky/Winter Soldier being torn between his memories and Hydra being 'home'. In fact, from the point of view of future storytelling (rather than fannish feels) the Winter Soldier is better as an ambiguous antagonist than a hero.
> 
> And, please, both RDJ and Chris Evans are signed up for _Infinity War_ and their characters, with Thor, are the most popular _among the general viewing public_ in the MCU except (possibly) for Loki. Neither Cap not Iron Man are going to die permanently this go round, and there are credible rumours that both will appear in the new Spider-man movie.
> 
>  _MCU is not 616._ They do not have dozens of titles and a few years to play out the arc and its consequences. (And they had to force Steve to go vigilante there by having Maria Hill act illegally, and get Tony to act way, way out of character just to keep the thing going.) This 'Civil War' has to be settled, one way or another, within this movie and behind the scenes in the next few movies – and you can exclude _Thor: Ragnarok_ from much of a part in that.
> 
> Because I have been in love with Steve Rogers since 1961 I am hoping against hope that Steve's arguments are stronger in the movie than they are in the trailer because, on the evidence we have been given he is being plain stupid and Tony is the one with sense. Also, it is really, really difficult to see how Cap thinks he could gain anything in the end from defying the world...
> 
> Of course, 'Captain America:Civil War' is Cap's movie and he has to turn out the hero but, right at this moment, I don't see how the Russos can do that and make it credible.


End file.
